Nanowrimo Day 9:
We're into one of my favorite parts of...
Nanowrimo Day 9:
We're into one of my favorite parts of the book, so far. The Troll Market. Thank you, Guillermo Del Toro for a piece of the inspiration. That's a page or two from his Hellboy 2 book, right there^.
Anyway:
The flea market was fairly typical. Cheap Chinese NASCAR tapestries, gun & knife booths *, rows and rows of bins of $1 health and beauty products on recall.
We passed several booths of musty second-hand clothing, dusty antiques, and moldy paperback books. If I hadn't been so concerned about Christie's well-being, it'd been tempting to browse the book stalls a bit, but as it was, Harlow was nearly breaking a sweat for the back corner of the hall, and I could barely keep up.
"Who exactly did you want me to meet?"
"Zelda," he said. "Keep walking, we're getting closer."
The last half-aisle of the flea market was devoted to musical instruments, and a circle of banjo pickers and guitarists were set up facing one another, jamming away to their heart's delight, while little children danced.
"Does Zelda play the dulcimer or something?" I asked.
He looked at me sideways, then laughed. "Actually, she might play the accordion—but I wouldn't ask her demonstrate. Not if you want to get home before midnight tonight."
After a good fifteen minutes of walking, we finally reached the back of the market. A stale, greasy snack bar featuring Unlimited Topping Pizzas and Broasted Chicken was closing, and the attendant made sure we knew it.
"I'd like a marshmallow pizza with extra gnomes," Harlow said.
"That ain't the password anymore," said the guy behind the counter, doffing his paper hat in my direction. "Orders of the boss."
"So what's the new password, Charlie?" Harlow asked, leaning over the counter and staring hard at the kid.
A snap and quiver of wings, and the attendant shook himself, like a dog. I wasn't sure what I was seeing, but it didn't seem natural. Not anything I'd seen in nature, anyway.
In an instant, he was back to normal, as if he'd never revealed his true nature.
"You're a fairy!" I said.
Charlie laughed, nodding in my direction. He looked me up and down. "Takes one to know one, sweetheart."
"It's her first time at the market, Charlie. Let us in."
"First time, huh?" Charlie leaned forward on the greasy countertop between us. He spread his wings deliberately this time—translucent, shimmering, and extending about six feet out from his back. He shook them and let them relax slightly. I could read the list of Unlimited Toppings through the gauze-like membrane of his wings. Pepperoni, sausage, green peppers—what did he mean? Takes one to know one?
A door opened next to Charlie, and fluorescent light lit up a supply closet. Then the illusion billowed, and was gone. There was no supply closet, just a door leading who knows where.
"Excuse me, pardon me," came grunting voices from below the counter.
Charlie tucked his wings in and shuffled out of the way.
"And don't think we didn't notice your wings out, civilian side," the voices said in unison.
Harlow took my hand, and wordlessly pulled me closer to the counter.
Two small people with long curly beards and pointy red hats pointed fingers up at Charlie. Charlie shrugged and sputtered, and then Harlow was pulling me over the counter, through the door.
The illusion of the supply closet flickered back into sight, then pealed away like a curtain. The world bowed and opened up before me.
"Welcome to Wal-mart for the Fey," said Harlow, spreading his arms wide. "This," he grinned, "is the Troll Market."
I actually edited two chapters today, and wrote a mini-chapter for Harlow in between, so there's lots more Troll Market fun I could post…but I want to leave some surprises for the book, right?
